“No, Beth, your resolution cannot be to join the mile-high club. Getting shadow banned will not help my numbers.” She laughs. “You weren’t supposed to hear that one, Captain, but for the record, I was joking.”
“Uh huh.” I shake my head at her, fiddling with the camera.
“Who’s first?” I’ll be up late editing it all together, so it doesn’t matter what order they go in.
In a move that surprises nobody, Beth throws her stick in the air. Somehow, the thirty seconds of swiping a brush through her hair, combined with a hint of lip gloss, left her looking like she just threw off her makeup artist’s cape.
Her eyes have the same steely focus she gets before a game. “Ready for me?” “Action!” She launches forward at the sharp clap of my hands.
She slides to a stop in front of the net, a big smile popping out her dimples. “I’m Beth, and my New Year’s resolution is to bang every member of the men’s hockey team.”
“Bethany Ann!!!” I yell at her.
Everyone cracks up, laughter echoing across the big open space as she resets herself.
“Sorry. I had to. Use it for the blooper reel. I’ll be serious now.”
She rips up again and says her goal is to kick Chicago’s ass in our next game. Everyone cheers for that one, and it sets the tone for the rest of the team.
There are a couple of goofy ones in there. Brit claims she’s going to eat pizza every week, and Layla says she’s going cafeteria tray sledding on the North hill. Then it’s my turn.
Everyone is still laughing with Layla as I’m racing toward the camera for the final shot.
“What’s going on out here? This is our ice time!”
The booming male voice cuts over mine as I’m about to speak.
“Give me a minute.” I just need to record one more. A kind of important one since it’s going up on my socials.
“Not happening. Clear off.”
I look up in irritation to spot Beau Whitaker. The captain of the men’s hockey team. Center of the universe. At least, that’s what he seems to think. I can’t believe I didn’t notice them all tromping up the tunnel and onto the ice, but we were being pretty loud down here at the end of the arena.
“Please. You guys can get your practice started. I only need like thirty seconds.” I’m sure he can give me that.
“No. It’s our time. Clear off so we can get going. This had better not be the way you think things are going to go with your new ice time. You might play fast and loose with your practice times, but we take this seriously. We’re here to play hockey, not do our hair and make videos.”
Seriously? What an asshole. Beau Whitaker. Of course, Mr. Golden Boy is a member of team women-can’t-be-serious-about-sports. He’s been in the boys’ club since he came out of the womb, platinum spoon intact.” We’re here to play hockey too, asshole.”
“Not what it looks like from here,” he says, gloves propped on the stick he’s leaning on. Looks like an extra long one. He’s probably compensating.
“Hey, can I be in your video?” My lips twitch as their goalie, Jenson, races over.
“JJ, get your ass back in line!” Beau’s voice booms out again, and the goalie stumbles, almost tipping over in his hurry to skate back to his team.
“Sorry, Beau.”
Their captain doesn’t respond, folding his arms over his chest as he stares me down. While his entire attitude has me itching to let loose on him, our time on the ice is over. I’ll have to record my bit behind the scenes. I’m sure I can still make it work. Maybe in front of one of the Lightning logos painted in the lobby.
“Okay, ladies, let’s clear out. Let the boys get on with their much-needed ice time.” I can’t resist at least one dig before we leave it to them. “They’re obviously afraid we’re going to show them up.”
The tension is getting uncomfortable, so I’m more than happy to clear out of their way, but of course he can’t leave it alone.
“Wilder!”
I whip around at the sound of my name, surprised he even bothered to learn it. “What?”
“Aren’t you going to clean up after yourself?” He chucks his chin at the orange cones we left out from our last drill. Cones that there is a ninety percent chance he’s going to use with his team. Now he’s just being a dick.
